A little vindictiveness: Behind closed doors
by Beyond The Mat
Summary: There are so many types of hate sex, none more soul-shattering than when the jealousy card is played. The problem lies in still loving somebody, and not knowing that they love you back. Ted, an OC wife, mentions of John Laurinatis and Maryse. Graphic.
1. Chapter 1

**Published September 2011; This is a current, incomplete thread from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "A session of hate sex, not for the weak", located in a private subfora. **

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><p>Some backstory:<p>

Miranda is Ted's second wife. They're currently separated, and have kept something of a friendly relationship throughout the separation. Well, as friendly as things *can* be when, well, you'll see. Or you can visit the boards and read up on them yourself, as their relationship is well-documented and a fun read.

There is one key piece of information one needs to know about Miranda: She has always had the ability to keep a game face on, to be a professional at work (she works for WWE in a clerical/production assistant capacity) and has never used Ted to get ahead in her job. She worked there before they were together and didn't quit to sit home all day and spend their money. So in that sense, she's maintained independence. But even the most professional woman can harbor a sense of longing.

Ted...well, you'll see. Let's begin.

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><p>There was a lot of unfinished business here. Miranda's patience was wearing thin, having to hold down her job and try to deal with the selling of the house. Ted had flown her out to Tampa and she'd been staying there on and off, to be closer to Mississippi than Connecticut, so she could go out there on a little more than a moment's notice, as needed, to deal with the realtor.<p>

Ted had gone out of his way to get her there, but once she got there, he was obviously only doing for her because he'd been told to. Whether it was someone at work (possibly) or his parents (probably), things weren't exactly at a truce level, but they were getting along as well as could be given the situation. Ted slept over at his friends' (and probably womens') places a lot, so she was alone for the most part when not on the road.

It wouldn't be unheard of for her resentment to be building quietly, when she'd glance up at work and while Maryse was no longer all over him, some diva or another was. Yes, it had been like that when they were very much together, but maybe it was the Florida heat she was dealing with this summer on her days off. Maybe she wasn't thinking clearly. Maybe she was just angry not only at him, but at herself, for not making things work.

She should've stood up to him the first time, no, not the first couple of times, that he cheated. She was convinced she should've just backhanded him across the face and given him an earful. "Who the FUCK do you think you are?" was how it would've begun, and it would've ended with her *showing* him who he was. Hers. Her husband, her lover, her friend.

She was not jealous by nature. It had to be the heat every time she stepped outside the Tampa residence.

Residence. Ha, what a joke. This was a rented flat that was little more than a place to sleep and work on the computer. Their residence was now having strangers walk through it, critiquing their decor, criticizing their price, and summing up their short marriage in dollars and cents and judgments passed. They were the anonymous "sellers" but it didn't take much more than a few glances around at some of the memorabilia in Ted's den to figure things out.

This wasn't home. Mississippi was.

Well, not anymore.

Bastard.

He had to, just HAD to fuck anything that moved, with a pulse, hair, and a mouth. To see how much Miranda would take. A woman can only take so much. He got what he wanted.

Or was that what he wanted? Or DID he want her to react? Never know now...or would she? No, you can't go back in time. You'll never know what someone wanted once upon a time.

But she did know one thing, and she hated herself for it: The anger was getting her hot for him. She had caught him looking at her almost smugly recently, it was just a ten second glance where eyes had locked and there was a smugness in there.

And her eyes had reflected the same.

And she'd allowed Laurinaitis to put his hand on her shoulder and guide her into a meeting. And Ted saw. And if she didn't know better, she'd have sworn his smug factor dipped for just a second.

Now, anybody who knows Miranda knows she wouldn't touch another wrestler or anybody in this company. She hasn't touched anybody since the separation, although she's had her offers. She's still, at least sexually, hung up on him. She's had too many lonely nights where she's woken up pissed off that she was alone.

He was stopping in this evening to get his mail. He had keys to the place. It was his place, in his name, he paid the rent. But tonight, as her hormones surged and a bit of vindictiveness reared its head, tonight was going to be different.

She'd picked up the phone and left a voicemail.

"Yeah, hi Ted," Her voice was a little raspy, like it would be the morning after one of their more luxurious fucks, but this was premeditated on her part, using *that* voice. Not saying who it was because he damned well better know who it was. Plus he had Caller ID. "Can't get your mail tonight, you'll have to make it another time. I have plans." Click.

Her plans now included brushing her hair out, putting a whorish amount of eyeliner on, and getting changed into next to nothing. She knew her phone would be ringing soon. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Published September 2011; This is a current, incomplete thread from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "A session of hate sex, not for the weak", located in a private subfora. **

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><p>"Yeah, hi Ted," Her voice was a little raspy, like it would be the morning after one of their more luxurious fucks, but this was premeditated on her part, using *that* voice. Not saying who it was because he damned well better know who it was. Plus he had Caller ID. "Can't get your mail tonight, you'll have to make it another time. I have plans." Click.<p>

Her plans now included brushing her hair out, putting a whorish amount of eyeliner on, and getting changed into next to nothing. She knew her phone would be ringing soon.

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><p>Legitimately, he hadn't been able to get to his phone in time. He'd been at the gym, and it was in his bag, locked in a locker.<p>

The call had come in about 15 minutes before he retrieved it, and his face went hard when he listened to it.

Oh, really? Other plans? Is that so.

Ted hadn't been returning Miranda's calls for reasons of his own, but those reasons can be shared here. First, he's in no rush to dump the house for a substandard price. There really isn't a need to. His salary covers the mortgage, should Miranda stop paying her portion as well. Why would people pay for a house they don't live in? It's called acquiring assets. Something that rich people know about, so if you didn't, now you do.

Secondly, there is an emotional attachment to the house. While this isn't his first marriage and this was an impulsive marriage, they'd picked the house out together and in the back of his head, the thought remained that it was his home, there. It was 10 minutes from his parents' house, and his brothers also lived nearby. That property was chosen for a reason. For the future. At that time, Miranda had been a part of it.

That was then. This is now. But now's getting a little different. It started when he saw John Laurinaitis's hand on her shoulder, and saw that Miranda hadn't -minded-.

Oh, no. No no no no no. That's not how we do this.  
>Double standard? You bet. But that's called life.<p>

During the marriage, Miranda was easy to take for granted, though. She was easy on the eyes, easier on the ears, and had been willing to look the other way until the very end. But now? "Other plans"? She still had his last name and he'd be damned if she was going to have some man over at the place he was paying for, where he knew the neighbors.

He played the message again and heard that raspy tone of voice.  
>The voice tone of hers reserved for their past mornings after some pretty damned memorable nights together. That voice now telling him he couldn't come over?<p>

COULDN'T?

Was the guy there NOW? Oh, fuck this mess. Before he knew what the fuck he was doing, he was calling her back. He was pumped up from the workout and now, with the voicemail and the thoughts in his head of her, of the visuals he got when he heard the audio message, feeling territorial.

You're damn right he called her back, about to put the girl on blast.  
>He dialed and waited.<p>

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><p>She glanced at the sink counter where her cellphone sat, and waited until the fourth ring to pick it up. Fifth ring would've allowed him to go to voicemail.<p>

Yes, she knew it was him. Had a special ringtone just for him, too: A 30-second snippet of "I Hate Everything About You", particularly, this part:

_only when i stop to think about it  
>i hate everything about you<br>why do i love you  
>i hate everything about you<br>why do i love you_

Fitting, isn't it?

"Didn't you get my voicemail?" she asked as she picked up. Not "Hi." Not "Hello." Not even "Hey." Certainly no addressing him by name. This was war. All was fair in war. And love. And hate sex. "I left you everything you needed to know in it." Then she sighed, like she was too busy to take his call.

Then she leaned on the sink and closed her eyes and listened.

Part of the song's lyrics were playing in the back of her brain before he spoke.  
><em>only when you stop to think about me, do you know?<em>

The silence was there that extra minute, like he was thinking before he spoke. So she baited him a little more.

"Honestly, you didn't *have* to call me back.." There was feigned annoyance in her tone, just a hint of it. She opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. Her eyes, with the lighting, looked darker than they even were, her hair was rumpled by design, a little teasing with a comb near the scalp giving her bedhead, not as crazy as morning after hair but definitely not the part of her business appearance. She stood there in her bra and a thong, and hadn't realized her breathing had altered while waiting to hear from him. Her fingers on her left hand ended up tracing her collarbone as she waited to hear his voice.


	3. Chapter 3

**Published September 2011; This is a current, incomplete thread from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "A session of hate sex, not for the weak", located in a private subfora. **

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><p>The silence was there that extra minute, like he was thinking before he spoke. So she baited him a little more.<p>

"Honestly, you didn't *have* to call me back.." There was feigned annoyance in her tone, just a hint of it. She opened her eyes and looked in the mirror. Her eyes, with the lighting, looked darker than they even were, her hair was rumpled by design, a little teasing with a comb near the scalp giving her bedhead, not as crazy as morning after hair but definitely not the part of her business appearance. She stood there in her bra and a thong, and hadn't realized her breathing had altered while waiting to hear from him. Her fingers on her left hand ended up tracing her collarbone as she waited to hear his voice.

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><p>Remember when Ted was pissed off? Well, he's past that. He's growing infuriated. And intrigued. But not as confident as he's always been with her. This is a problem. Ted has always had the upper hand when it comes to confidence. Smugness. Now she's being cocky with him. No. He's territorial as it is, and yes, she's still his in name. And right now, in interest.<p>

This woman on the phone and his voicemail was apparently not the woman he'd lived with. This one had something of an attitude with him. Maybe a bit of a backbone. When she'd gotten stranded at the house with the electricity outage, he'd felt bad for her as a person, a general person, and ok to a point a female. His mother yelling "That is your WIFE!" had more to do with the hint of guilt he'd felt.

But this has nothing to do with his mother or anyone except them. Right now, with the way she's spoken to him live and on voicemail, Miranda's being something of a challenge. Fine. Challenge accepted.

He wouldn't tell her that she's resparked his interest. He's certainly not going to put into words that he might still care, particularly right this second, given the way she's talking to him like he's almost some sort of pest.

All this was going through his head and finally, he found his voice. There he stood in the locker room, glad that nobody else was in there right now, because at certain portions, he may have unintentionally have gotten a little loud. He had paced the entire length of the bench and back again, holding his phone and a towel.

"What in the hell has gotten into you?" he'd asked in a demanding way. She couldn't mistake his anger for anything else. He wanted answers and he was going to get them. Yes he was. An angry Ted is not a very nice Ted, as she damn well is aware.

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><p>There was a certain pitch in Ted's voice that was normally one that would've given Miranda a moment to retreat or at least think through. It's where she always, always shrunk back, avoided argument, let him be himself. Now with the phone separating them physically, and her hearing that tone, yeah, she knew she stirred the hornet's nest. So always, just changed. Not this time. She got that pitch in his voice, that gruffness, and she was going to play it for what it was worth. Not his money. Not the marriage. Just pure sex. She needed it. Did she still love him? Well, yeah. But she wasn't thinking about that right now. Not the issues. This is a lust matter.<p>

And it got her hotter for him. God DAMN it. He couldn't know it, not yet. It's not like he could see her or smell her where he was. All he could do was hear her. She could only hear him, too, sure, but she was more apt to bottle her emotions. When Ted was pissed, he let her know it and right now was no different.

Except it wasn't just him being pissed. It was the demanding bit that had got her and a searing heat starting in her pelvis. The sexual response he provoked in her from day one had never changed, even when she'd willed it to stop.

"Gotten into me?" she chuckled throatily.

Then she played a very dangerous card.

"Wouldn't *you* like to know?" she continued, with the chuckle. The chuckle was a sexy one, but she was being very methodical right now. That same chuckle had brought him from soft to hard in record times in the past. She didn't know where he was, didn't care either, and wondered if she had any effect like that on him anymore.

Her hand that had been on her stomach slipped between her thighs as she waited for his response, if any. Her body was craving his. So they couldn't work things out, right? Fifty percent or more marriages end in divorce. But she needed to feel him, if only one more time.

And not any lovey-dovey bullshit either.

It was the hate sex she was craving. Not the type where she really didn't feel like it, but rolled her eyes and let him anyway. Oh, no. Not a chance.

No, this was going to be the sort of sex where she would give as good, if not better, than she was going to get. Where she'd slam back onto him as he slammed without mercy into her. Where she'd worry about her own needs and getting off more than his pleasure.

If he was going to go that road with her, that is...

"You there?" she chuckled, thinking maybe he hung up. If he did, his loss...


	4. Chapter 4

**Published September 2011; This is a current, incomplete thread from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "A session of hate sex, not for the weak", located in a private subfora. **

**If you would like to interact with characters like this (well, maybe not *just like this*, lol, but you get the idea), please join us. There are over 50 unique characters currently in our Registration Library, waiting to be engaged in stories. The link to our place is in our profile. Reviews are most welcome.**

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><p>It was the hate sex she was craving. Not the type where she really didn't feel like it, but rolled her eyes and let him anyway. Oh, no. Not a chance.<p>

No, this was going to be the sort of sex where she would give as good, if not better, than she was going to get. Where she'd slam back onto him as he slammed without mercy into her. Where she'd worry about her own needs and getting off more than his pleasure.

If he was going to go that road with her, that is...

"You there?" she chuckled, thinking maybe he hung up. If he did, his loss...

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><p>Here's where the problem lies. Ted lusted Miranda a long time before he loved her, if you can call the quick courtship a long time. Safe to say he wanted her in his bed before he fell in love with her, and now he was getting some feelings back that he wasn't understanding, but right now, he didn't give a shit about trying to sort it out.<p>

No, he wanted to know what the fuck was so funny that she was chuckling like that and leading him to believe he was taking up her valuable time, maybe trying to rush him off the phone?

He heard a little bit of need in there. No, a lot of it, much as she thought she was hiding it. That bedroom voice came from somewhere. Her voice was clear at work. It was borderline sweet when she'd talk to him. This voice, though, was pure sex.

Who was giving it to her? Laurinaitis? No, she wouldn't. Would she?

She was his. In name, and taking back over due to the interest she'd gotten, the attention she got out of him with this attitude, an attitude that physically he was responding to a little more than he'd like to admit, but emotionally and physically, was going to have her, or both of them, unable to walk straight for a few days. Time to re-mark territory, property, what was his.

"Miranda, I'm taking a shower and I'll be over there in 20 minutes," he said with a near growl in his tone. "You knew I was coming over, you're not changing that on me now." He hung up and was in something of a rush to hit the shower. Then he was going to tear that up like they just got married, if he had anything to say about it.

He tried not to think about her while showering. He tried to make it a quick shower and avoid what was happening, but realized that the need was too great to ignore. He thought of all kinds of morbid shit to wish the hard-on away. It worked, for now, but look out, Miranda. Just look out. Be careful what you wish for, consciously or subconsciously, because you just might get it.

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><p>Miranda shivered when he took that tone with her. The no room for argument, this is how it is tone.<p>

She wondered what the hell would have happened if Ted came here and there was another man here. In fantasy, it was safe and harmless. In reality, it could have not ended well for any, given that tone and his possessiveness when he felt inclined to be possessive. Plus, she didn't want any other man. She'd been spoiled by having him. Even though he'd done some unforgivable shit, she never had anyone who could compare to him in bed.

She knew it was a double standard. She also knew she wasn't the last place where his cock had been, but right now, honestly, it didn't matter. She needed to feel him. She needed to feel him get almost cruel with her. Make her tender. Sore. Maybe not in any rush to want to jump into bed again. Use her. Abuse her a little. But she stopped short of the thought of "I want him to make me feel loved." Wanted would be enough.

She bit her lip as her index finger brought her off, her hand having slipped her thong to the side while Ted was talking to her on the phone, and the moan that followed was unrestrained after ending the call. She'd almost climaxed when he'd said "you knew I was coming over, you're not changing that on me now." So insistent. So sure of himself.

She knew his confidence might've been a little shaken but he'd get it back once he saw no man was here, nor was there anything masculine here that didn't belong to him. Everything was in its place, with the exception of Miranda herself being a little disheveled.

She was soaked now, and her legs were a little shaky with desire and the offbalanced feeling post-climax. She caught a look at herself in the mirror and having come like that, that hard, had her complexion glowing and her eyes a little brighter, even with all the liner under and around her eyes.

To be honest, she looked a little like someone you'd see on a porn tape, with the look she had. She allowed her left bra strap to hang on her shoulder and took her black satin robe off the back of the bathroom door and slipped it on over what little she was wearing. She was able to look herself in the mirror and know that this wasn't just what she wanted, she was woman enough to recognize her *needs*.

What woman out there who was ever with Ted previously could say that they'd had better? Ted's technique was excellent and varied from time to time, but there was no more sexually satisfying but exhausting Ted that Miranda could give a private testimonial about than Angry Ted. And only the most daring should ever try Angry Ted, because he is not one for the weak of heart, body or mind to fuck with.

Nice Ted will get you dinner, flowers, and a memorable time in bed because of his size and skill. He has what we'll call a "signature move" in bed that makes Nice Ted not *too* nice, and you'll feel it for a long time, but that's how he ends the nice time.

Depressed Ted requires a blowjob that makes even the strongest jaw ache for days. And Depressed Ted can't come from that blowjob. Depressed Ted will make you work for it and even if you were Jenna fucking Jameson, he might not be able to come. And it's your fault. Although you'll wake up a few hours later after giving up and he's apparently turned on by your warm sleeping form near him and you wake up and he's already half-buried inside you. Must be an element of surprise thing.

Happy Ted is much like Nice Ted except there's a few more positions involved. Nothing out of the ordinary. Nice Ted likes missionary to start and finish. Depressed Ted generally jumps you from behind. Happy Ted might let you take the top.

Angry Ted?

Hell.

Angry Ted will bend you over wherever you happen to be in a room. Over random furniture or fixtures. Or on a balcony. Half over a railing. On the hood of the car in the garage. On a locker room bench (be quiet, that was only once). Over the desk. Anywhere you can bend, he will bend you.

Then he'll bend you backward over that same furniture. Your legs and his shoulders get adjusted to each other and you swear you're not going to walk again, and you might be right for a few hours. You might think your ACL got torn, once the afterglow has lifted and you try to take a few tender steps to go hit the bathroom. It wouldn't be out of the question for him to end up carrying your wounded ass to the couch and planting you there to nap if this was a mid-morning or mid-afternoon incident, because you physically couldn't make it on your own after he was through with you.

Angry Ted sometimes talked really dirty, too. Not calling you a bitch or a slut, no, he was too good for that. He didn't do the namecalling thing unless you did something bitchy, and he might call you a bitch midfuck, (he'd never called Miranda a slut, but had heard a diva who Miranda thought *was* a slut say Ted called her a slut), but it was more about what he was going to do to you, or telling you as he was doing it, how it felt, or what he'd do to you next. Or if he was behind you, he'd tell you how you looked, how the view was. It was filthy..yet it was hot.

Would it be surprising to say that she was keeping an eye on the clock and the twenty minutes seemed to take forever to pass?


	5. Chapter 5

**Published September 2011; This is a current, incomplete thread from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "A session of hate sex, not for the weak", located in a private subfora. **

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><p>Would it be surprising to say that she was keeping an eye on the clock and the twenty minutes seemed to take forever to pass?\<p>

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><p>20 minutes didn't pass. He'd made it there in 17 minutes flat.<p>

He'd wasted no time parking, getting out of the car, slamming the door, and fumbling through his keys to get the one to the door. A neighbor looked at him and he stared back a second, the thought crossing his mind of "What are you looking at?"

Thinking for a second Miranda DID have some fucking guy in the place. He glanced around behind him for unfamiliar cars. A quick scan showed parking permits for all nearby.

He smirked to himself and let himself in the house. You wanted Angry Ted? That's what you get. His key entered the lock roughly (that's only the first thing here that's getting entered roughly) and he busted into the place, almost adopting the stance of his character in The Marine 2. A quick visual scan of the room showed nobody except her there, standing near the doorway, looking at him with what seemed to be anticipation, a hint of a smirk on her lips, but not as bold as what he'd heard on the phone.

He was rock hard and his shorts weren't doing much to hide the fact. It had been real fun leaving the gym this way, something else she'd pay for momentarily. He grabbed her where she stood and pinned her against the wall. Her back was to the wall, her front to him. His hands went to her wrists, and he lifted them to pin them over her head. He kissed her roughly and could hear her moaning. Was she trying to talk? Shut the fuck up. You said enough. You got me worked up like this. Now deal with it.

No, he wasn't going to rape her. Is it rape if you're married? Doesn't apply here. No, not because they're separated but because she's kissing him back. And he can catch the scent of her arousal. That just pushed him further to the edge. He did back off on the kiss for a moment to stare hard at her, try to make sense of what the hell was happening for a second.

That was her chance to say she didn't want this, or no, or whatever. Otherwise, he was about to tear it up, right here and now.

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><p>Her breath caught in her throat when she saw him. She'd heard him park his car and her heart had sped up in an adrenaline rush, and she'd made her way to the hallway near the front door. The grab where he seized her and backed her to the wall got a crushed moan from her lips, sure, and it's obvious by what's poking her first in the hip, then in the abdomen when he pressed up to her that he's too turned on for either of them to turn back now.<p>

The hard stare was met by one back at him rivaling its intensity. He'd smeared her lipstick some with the rough kissing, and he had her hands pretty much bound above her head. That didn't mean that she didn't "struggle" a little. She practically sneered at him at that point, a classic baiting look, before she did something that really, really, REALLY isn't recommended that others try unless they know who they're with and what the hell they're doing. And even then, it's a move you better use cautiously.

She may have been pinned by the hands and when he backed off just that bit to stare, she jerked to the left with her hips, like she was denying him access. Crossed her ankles, forming another "blockade" so he couldn't just part her thighs with his knee, and the hard look turned she was giving him turned into an extremely bitchy smile.

Like a "what are *you* gonna do about it?" dare, a come on, a challenge. The cherry on top of this little cake of "resistance" was when she leaned up and kissed him every bit as roughly as he'd kissed her, but nipped his lower lip when she broke that kiss.

Yeah, she bit him. Not too gently. Not hard, but hard enough for him to feel it. THIS IS NOT SOMETHING YOU DO TO JUST ANYBODY. THIS CAN GET YOU HURT OUT OF INVOLUNTARY REFLEX. But right now, she was a gambling woman, willing to risk everything and put it all on the line. Maybe the reward would be him losing his temper and fucking her right here against the wall. Maybe there wouldn't be a reward and...

Well, by the way her eyes just lowered and she pretty much stared at his cock trying to escape his shorts, looking like a battering ram, there'd be some sort of reward. No risk, no reward, right?

Her eyes flickered at him. It's your move. The chance given to refuse him was denied. She was here. He was here. This "otherwise" you mentioned about him tearing it up? Bring it on.


	6. Chapter 6

**Published September 2011; This is a current, incomplete thread from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "A session of hate sex, not for the weak", located in a private subfora. **

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><p>Ted's attention was caught for a moment by the bite. She'd wanted his attention, and she got it. She was really pushing her luck. The bite of hers, he knew, wasn't to hurt, it was to mark. That's something lionesses do, but these are human animals we're dealing with, and Ted was now setting to stay a step ahead of her in thought and pace. She was not going to dominate him, nor was this going to be some battle of domination. No woman would ever control him that way. He was the one in charge. Ted regrouped as he looked at her hard.<p>

He's too smart to thrust in right now and break her, although nothing would've felt better to him right now at this particular immediate second. If he did that, she'd get hurt and he'd come too soon and the moment would be lost. So no, he had to outthink her right now.

He went for a combination of mouthwork, crushing her lips with his, and fingering her, teasing the hell out of her. He sensed her anger. Knew he deserved some of it. But she was antagonizing him now. She knew damn well he could leave right now, leave her aching for him. Gambling on him sticking around after the risky bite showed she either wasn't thinking clearly enough, or didn't care. He could leave, if he wanted to..

She also knew that he probably wouldn't, but the chance was there.

Bullshit, he was staying. They both knew that. But he didn't drive into her and start ramming the hell out of her. Oh no, she'd probably expected that. She was going to wait for that. So instead, 3 fingers started pistoning inside her as he kept her pinned to the wall. His mouth left hers and was making a trail as he leaned into her, down from her mouth to her throat, throat to her breast. He finished moving the other strap off the shoulder so the bra was loosened, and his fingers continued to stretch her. He smirked inwardly, as he could tell she'd already climaxed once, and if he kept doing what he was doing, just like this, she'd come again in no time.

He knew her body damn well, and considering his own need right now, Angry Ted was being considerate at the moment, as considerate as he could be. 3 fingers of Ted's is probably 4, 4.5 of an average guy, and given how long it's been since Miranda's had sex, he probably would've been kinder to start with 1 finger, or 2 max. But he'd started with 3.

She bit him. She wanted this as bad as he did, and was relating to her on a primal level right now. It's not like she was pulling away from his hand, but it's not like she really could since he pinned her. Uncomfortable? Not his problem.

He could feel the spasming starting deep inside her, knowing she was about to come. He slowed his fingers, drawing out the moment. His lips left her and his full attention now went lower, still able to keep her pinned from the waist down as he got on a knee so he could go down on her. Mouthwork joining the fingering, and he was in control.

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><p>Getting herself off was one thing. Not only did it make Miranda more sensitive and receptive to whatever Ted did at present, but it took away the inability to come when Ted was doing what he was doing, after not coming for so long. Had she not been as wet, she'd be in actual pain right now. Pain was felt, sure at first, but the adrenaline rush and her state of mind helped guide her over to the other side of pain's pendulum: Pleasure.<p>

Her husband's fingers are HUGE, in case you haven't seen that the man wasn't given hands when he was born. HE HAS PAWS. And three of those fingers right now had her filled to capacity, working as a team like a preview of his cock, moving at his will and under his choice of depth and rhythm. She had no choice in opening to him when he did that.

And yet in her anger, what did she do? Thrusted her hips toward and not away from his hand as he came at her roughly. Her hips arched to take him. The "barricades" she herself put up, she broke. Yes, she did. Ted might have gotten his hand where he wanted it but she could've kept her ankles crossed if she wanted to, or battled him on it, and not allowed maximum entry. But she was close to coming from the minute there was skin to skin contact.

It felt amazing now. She wouldn't think so later when she felt nothing but swollen inside, but now wasn't the time to think. Now was the time to feel, to experience, to be filled and fulfilled. To let everything out that had been bottled for so long, allowing her mind to suspend the fact that she loved him and simply work him for her pleasure, out of spite and desire. When Ted had backed off and stared at her, a fleeting thought of "maybe that bite went too far, maybe I ruined it all" did grip her. Maybe she'd gone too far. Her lips had parted to say something but she'd been shut up with a gasp as his fingers drove into her and disabled any thought processes as her slick walls were pushed to their maximum, apart.

When he went down on her, though, it was like a surge of fire had coursed through her veins. The moment his tongue touched her, she came hard, probably the hardest ever in her life. She cried out primally, her body not under her own control, with the contractions of her muscles and the way her eyes rolled back in her head. His fingers seemed to hit virgin territory when she was at the crescendo of her climax, and left her in a position of his pinning her being the only reason she was able to stand after the near violence of that climax.

She edged away from his fingers the best she could and looked down at him on one knee.

_On one knee, like how he proposed._

"I came...you can get your mail," she said, still trying to catch her breath, "and go now." Oh yes she did just say that. The presence of mind that this was about *her* pleasure, and that while he could pat himself on the back for an orgasm well given could be done, she was not about to just do a 180* with her feelings and turn around and please him now.

But she'd bet anything that there was no way he'd be leaving without coming at least once. While fair might be fair, he was very into scorekeeping. And in moments like this, when they'd never raged at each other to this extent, anything could happen.


	7. Chapter 7

**Published September 2011; This is a current, incomplete thread from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "A session of hate sex, not for the weak", located in a private subfora. **

**If you would like to interact with characters like this (well, maybe not *just like this*, lol, but you get the idea), please join us. There are over 50 unique characters currently in our Registration Library, waiting to be engaged in stories. The link to our place is in our profile. Reviews are most welcome.**

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><p>"I came...you can get your mail," she said, still trying to catch her breath, "and go now." Oh yes she did just say that. The presence of mind that this was about *her* pleasure, and that while he could pat himself on the back for an orgasm well given could be done, she was not about to just do a 180* with her feelings and turn around and please him now.<p>

But she'd bet anything that there was no way he'd be leaving without coming at least once. While fair might be fair, he was very into scorekeeping. And in moments like this, when they'd never raged at each other to this extent, anything could happen.

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><p>Now, here Ted was, bringing her to climax, just her, not both of them, focusing on her, knowing he was killing her with the teasing, pleasuring her...<p>

AND MIRANDA TOLD HIM HE COULD GO HOME NOW?

Did he hear her right?

He had to have looked confused for a split second, before he got to his feet, and got a handful of her hair, which he tugged while smirking deviously at her.

HE COULD LEAVE? REALLY? Are you fucking serious.

Now's about the time that Miranda's going to want to wish they'd had a baby during the marriage, who'd wake up about now and make them break it up sexually. Maybe multiple kids to pull them apart.

Because now, he was leading her to the bedroom, by the hair. Where in the past, he might have treated her special and taken his time, now he was going to get it in. Where in the past, he might have lifted her by her lower back to let him feel his cock, and tease, play, and make himself more irresistible to her, this was different. He'd already teased and played. Now, it was going to be more of a stamina fuck on his part.

Ted was going to push his own limits, and if she came again, great. If not, that was fine too. He'd already given her the option to turn back, so he wasn't going to be a nice guy and ask her if she was ready. He untangled his hand from his hair, tossed her onto the bed and told her, "Get undressed." Miranda now had the time to finish taking off the little bit she wore. He was undressing as he spoke.

Get his mail and go home now after you got off? How about when you're completely worn out and he's still going, he'll arch your back -for- you, just to keep you going. Make no mistake, things were going to be done a certain way, and you brought this on yourself.

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><p>Her hair was a little longer than it had been when they'd been living together as man and wife, and by the way he'd tugged it to lead her into the bedroom, she'd guess that on some level, he preferred her hair longer, if only to drag her by to the bedroom to fuck her.<p>

The push to the bed had her watching him undress. She was in no hurry to undress. You want her undressed? You can add that to your list of things to do. For now, she was watching him.

Every time that man took his damned shirt off, be it to go to sleep, or get dressed, or even on camera, she couldn't help the flush that came over her, the flood of color and moisture. The physical attraction couldn't be denied. The shorts coming off..well, that act was a little, well, not intimidating but it did dawn on Miranda at that moment that Angry Ted might even have more repercussions than she'd known previously. His boxers being kicked aside to join his sneakers, socks, shorts and shirt exposed a cock that was as big as she remembered, but throbbing almost menacingly, like it was as angry as its owner.

She may or may not have whispered "oh, shit" when she bit her lip. It had been a long time since she'd seen him naked and an even longer time since she'd seen him this mad. But of course she had to add fuel to the fire. "You better use a condom or you're not touching me." She practically spat the words...Ted *hated* condoms and that was probably one of the reasons they'd married so quickly...because while married, they didn't use them. Miranda was protected by birth control, and Ted knew that, so telling him to use a condom was just spewing further hate. Because it wasn't to protect against pregnancy. It was to protect her from wherever the fuck he'd been.

She sat up, then got to her knees on the bed. Not all fours. More like she was kneeling in church, and she defiantly looked him over. Her fingers slipped lower again, her thong still physically on her body and just shoved to the side to give her access, the same as Ted had accessed her and brought her off, silently telling him that she'd do for herself if she had to and he was welcome to do the same...


	8. Chapter 8

**Published September 2011; This is a current, incomplete thread from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "A session of hate sex, not for the weak", located in a private subfora. **

**If you would like to interact with characters like this (well, maybe not *just like this*, lol, but you get the idea), please join us. There are over 50 unique characters currently in our Registration Library, waiting to be engaged in stories. The link to our place is in our profile. Reviews are most welcome.**

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><p>She sat up, then got to her knees on the bed. Not all fours. More like she was kneeling in church, and she defiantly looked him over. Her fingers slipped lower again, her thong still physically on her body and just shoved to the side to give her access, the same as Ted had accessed her and brought her off, silently telling him that she'd do for herself if she had to and he was welcome to do the same...<p>

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><p>He was making his way over to the bed and her words were spat at him, and they earned her a harsh look. Clearly, he was pissed. Not because she was demanding he use a condom but the reason behind it. Her negative emotions were clouding her reasoning.<p>

"There's no need for that, Miranda," he said sharply, and made his way over. There's no need for that because whenever he'd slept with someone else, he had used condoms without fail, for pregnancy reasons AND for disease reasons. It was his WIFE who he went all-natural with, and while his own reasoning might be fucked up to anybody else, he expected Miranda to know that he wasn't stupid, not like that.

If she really insisted on it, fine, he would use one, even though it meant he wouldn't feel her like she's meant to be felt, but the fact remained that there was no need for it. And if he remembered correctly, Miranda has a latex sensitivity, which means that condom in his wallet would only serve to make her further swollen in a little while. She's already going to feel this for a while...does she really want a possible allergic reaction, too?

He picked up his shorts for his wallet to extract the condom packet from it, practically glaring at her all the while.

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><p>She knew what "there's no need for that" meant. But it wasn't all what he thought she was thinking. The fact that there was no need for it meant that he hadn't gone unprotected with anyone else, and that reassured her some, but it also fucked with her head for a second.<p>

If he hadn't gone unprotected with anyone, then he hadn't gotten serious with anyone. Which meant maybe part of him wasn't ready to move on from her. The same way she wasn't fully ready to move on, but she'd rather be alone than with someone other than him.

DAMN IT!

"You're an asshole," she hissed, and almost ripped her fucking thong off, the elastic getting loose from her finger and snapping against her flesh, leaving a pink mark on her hip. She was equally rough with unhooking her bra and throwing it to the side.

A condom wasn't just to prevent disease. It would've prevented them actually touching completely, that little bit of latex which, yes, she might get an allergic reaction to yet it would keep that little bit of distance emotionally for her, and deny him some pleasure.

In his own twisted way, he'd remained a little bit faithful, and in her own screwed-up way, she appreciated it on some basal level. She glared back at him as he approached. All she wanted to feel was him. She didn't want these feelings coming now, the what-ifs, the what-could've-beens.

She just wanted to be left a sweaty, hurting mess. She fell back from kneeling to sitting, sitting to lying on her back, and her supple thighs spread widely, her finger finding her clitoris right in front of him, as if to say "With or without you, I *will* come. Again."

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><p>He's an asshole? No, well, ok, he can be, but he saw through why she called him that. He saw the flicker of anguish that went through her face when she grasped what he'd said to her. That he hadn't been completely stupid. And on a certain level, hadn't strayed too far and jumped headlong into an actual -relationship- with another woman, where protection could be forgotten. These weren't conscious thoughts or long thought processes going on between either, as neither were really capable of that right now, but just hints of realizations.<p>

Miscommunication, misdeeds, mistakes: 3 things that defined their relationship. Miscommunication happens. It's about sorting it or trying to communicate better, that's how things work. Misdeeds..well, shut up. Sometimes you don't appreciate what you have until you don't have it anymore. And the mistake was her baiting him like that, especially since she was going to work on herself with her hand and goading him once more.

He entered her roughly, taking her up on the invitation as she lay back like that, to give her what she had, or hadn't bargained for. Now it was time to take what he needed, while leaving behind the marking of his territory. Cruel? Didn't care. Well, didn't care much. Well, cared but they both needed this right now. Powering through, his body pinning hers to the mattress after she'd welcomed him with open thighs had him not lowering slowly, but taking all of her in one shot. All he could hear for a moment was his own heartbeat, the blood rushing and pounding in his chest, in his ears, the surge of their bodies connecting in an almost violent need happening now.

Yeah, somebody's gonna feel this later. Maybe 2 somebodies. After initial entry, he didn't take it slow, but instead, methodically. He intended to last for quite some time, not that it was always easy to with her, but given how she's sort of not in a position to get up and move, he was going to give it one hell of a shot to keep her there and on the receiving end of what she'd taunted him into.


	9. Chapter 9

**Published September 2011; This is a current, incomplete thread from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "A session of hate sex, not for the weak", located in a private subfora. **

**If you would like to interact with characters like this (well, maybe not *just like this*, lol, but you get the idea), please join us. There are over 50 unique characters currently in our Registration Library, waiting to be engaged in stories. The link to our place is in our profile. Reviews are most welcome.**

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><p>He entered her roughly, taking her up on the invitation as she lay back like that, to give her what she had, or hadn't bargained for. Now it was time to take what he needed, while leaving behind the marking of his territory. Cruel? Didn't care. Well, didn't care much. Well, cared but they both needed this right now. Powering through, his body pinning hers to the mattress after she'd welcomed him with open thighs had him not lowering slowly, but taking all of her in one shot. All he could hear for a moment was his own heartbeat, the blood rushing and pounding in his chest, in his ears, the surge of their bodies connecting in an almost violent need happening now.<p>

Yeah, somebody's gonna feel this later. Maybe 2 somebodies. After initial entry, he didn't take it slow, but instead, methodically. He intended to last for quite some time, not that it was always easy to with her, but given how she's sort of not in a position to get up and move, he was going to give it one hell of a shot to keep her there and on the receiving end of what she'd taunted him into.

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><p>Her breath caught in her throat at the invasion to her body. Stamina fuck? OH, SHIT. This wasn't what she planned on. Wait. Hang on a second. Maybe it's time to reconsider this? Well...not exactly. It wasn't that she couldn't take it-she could. Of course she'd pay for this tomorrow and given by how hard he was hitting it, she might be calling out sick for the rest of the week, making it a long weekend-it was that emotions had come into play that were *not* in her control.<p>

_You fucking bastard. I hate you. I love you._ Words were going through her mind and her mind only, because she couldn't exactly form words with what was happening right now. When you've got a 235 lb. owner of a cock, who knows what to do with that cock, and now you're connecting on an emotional level you didn't exactly want, besides the physical, a strong vocabulary is not going to come into good use right now.

To her credit, she did manage to keep her fingers wedged between them for the moments upon his first entry to when he'd first pulled back, and that set her into a violent climax. Thankfully, that triggered her body's responses into keeping her wet enough to handle what was happening. Her hand did pull away and both hands joined, ending up with her forearms flat to his chest, her fingers holding on for dear life to his shoulders.

Ted hadn't busted out his patented "air conditioner trick," where he'd set the temperature in the room to arctic levels before partaking in sex. The method behind the trick...well, he could explain it better, it was his trick...anyway, it normally kept them cool enough externally that the pillows, sheets and each other weren't completely soaked in sweat, but that wasn't the case right now. The mattress beneath the sheets was actually starting to show her outline in a pattern of perspiration, much as the police do a chalk outline of a dead body.

Ha, a dead body. Something she might very well end up if he kept fucking her like this. Her eyes were a little wild, glancing at the bedside table clock, and he'd been going at it a full twelve minutes already, no sign of letting up. She felt every inch of him in length taking all that she had, all of his girth spreading her impossibly. Over and over, like a fucking jackhammer. She flexed her internal muscles, finding the rhythm unique to them, that she'd learned through trial and error triggered his own release. Her thighs couldn't part any wider and her eyes sought his. Her expression had softened as she took the brutal, deliberate pounding from him, each thrust taking some of the aggression away.

Then her body rebelled against her. Those intentional flexing of muscles he'd been feeling? They were welling up and threatening to make her climax *again*.

_You fucking asshole. How dare you be the only one to make me feel so good_

"Oh God," she screamed, hoarsely. Any neighbor who wasn't actively listening probably heard that, if they hadn't heard the headboard ramming into the wall, denting the sheet rock which would require mending with spackle and paint. "I'm gonna...oh God, Ted," she told him, breathlessly. Her fingers tensed, resting in his shoulder muscles, and her toes pointed inwardly, tensing her walls around his cock again. You wanted to mark your territory? You *expanded* your damned territory. She was breathing raggedly and then got hit hard as she came yet again, this time without the stimulation to her clitoris. This time it was all him.

And she wanted to hate him for it, and couldn't. Her eyes closed, and she just continued to hang on through the wicked tremors through her body, wondering how close he might be. Not minding now if he wasn't, if he wanted to fuck her until she passed out, she'd be okay with that right now. The endorphins had kicked in and with her eyes closed, feeling him inside her like that, she was in a different zone. The hate had melted. This could prove tricky if once he's done, he doesn't say a fucking word and just walks out, but it's not about worrying what's going to happen in five minutes or a half hour. It's a moment to moment thing. That's all. And in this moment, all the tension in her had faded away.


	10. Chapter 10

**Published September 2011; This is the final chapter of this portion of Ted and Miranda's story from our Writing/Roleplaying Forum. Its title on the board is "A session of hate sex, not for the weak", located in a private subfora. **

**If you would like to interact with characters like this (well, maybe not *just like this*, lol, but you get the idea), please join us. There are over 50 unique characters currently in our Registration Library, waiting to be engaged in stories. The link to our place is in our profile. Reviews are most welcome.**

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><p>And she wanted to hate him for it, and couldn't. Her eyes closed, and she just continued to hang on through the wicked tremors through her body, wondering how close he might be. Not minding now if he wasn't, if he wanted to fuck her until she passed out, she'd be okay with that right now. The endorphins had kicked in and with her eyes closed, feeling him inside her like that, she was in a different zone. The hate had melted. This could prove tricky if once he's done, he doesn't say a fucking word and just walks out, but it's not about worrying what's going to happen in five minutes or a half hour. It's a moment to moment thing. That's all. And in this moment, all the tension in her had faded away.<p>

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><p>His eyes hadn't gone to the clock, like hers did, but if they had, then he'd have probably been proud of himself in a moment, for being able to double his time, when the release he'd been holding off rushed through him. He couldn't go much longer, damned near pulled right out of her, and had a final little something up his sleeve. He gave her something of what a ring rat would have gotten when he came finally, and lifted her to him, and maximized the pleasure, through the pain any woman was bound to feel with that last thrust.<p>

He tightened around her, and God no, not a bearhug. He wasn't crushing her. More of a careful hug, the first time tonight he'd held her carefully, so much to the point that his legs shook from the knee down, he gave a low groan, and made sure she had enough of what took place. There'd be no round 2 tonight, not after what he gave her. He gave her his all, and he regretted none of it.

34 minutes total. Twice the time it took him to drive over there was how long he'd been able to hang in there and tear it up as he'd set his mind to it. 34 minutes of allowing himself to get it in, but there was a lot more to it than that, that had crept up on both of them in the matter of feelings.

She was worn out some time ago. He'd turned her entire body into like one nerve ending, where all she could do was feel physically while letting her mind go blank. Sensory overload or something. It was when he'd pushed her to and beyond her limits and could see the hatred that had been flickering in her eyes fade away, replaced by a sense of...peace?...that he was able to ease up just a bit, still hitting it well, but more for pleasure than to prove a point, or prove himself, or prove that she still belonged to him.

Ok. Let's clarify something. The air conditioner "trick" wasn't a trick. There was reasoning and rationale behind that. Something he had learned, when you started getting cold from the temperature, things were dying down. That's normally when he'd hit. Of course, he could feel her body heat, and she was considerably warm, and if he'd lowered the a/c to his standard fuck temperature of 63*F, that warmth, obviously, would drop. Sweat was generally something to avoid. Tonight, though, no.

He could tell from first entry that Miranda hadn't fucked Laurinaitis, she hadn't fucked anybody. Whether that was because she didn't want anybody, or didn't want anybody but -him-, he didn't know and didn't, right now, feel like he was able to handle the knowledge, because everything was a lot different than when he'd retrieved that voicemail.

After he came, he carefully withdrew from her, like being careful now would've made a difference? No, but it was just what he did anyway, and then laid back on the bed. Here's the part where Miranda probably expected him to get up and get dressed and go. Instead, he took her in his arms, had her in something of a hug, and stared up at the ceiling as their bodies came to rest after what just went down. He was up to talk, and would be for a while. After something like that, you just don't doze off. At least he wouldn't. What would they talk about? He didn't know, but they were probably both too shot to feel awkward at this point.

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><p>No regrets.<p>

Well, when she stood up and tried to let her legs bear her weight, she'd probably have a few physical regrets, but emotionally? No regrets.

She couldn't speak for Ted but the minute he opted to lay there with her, she'd guess he had none at present, either. Maybe he'd missed her and hadn't realized it. Maybe after a nap, he'd get dressed, go back and stay with Cody, and they'd go back to how they'd been behaving around each other.

Or not. But she lay there limply, cuddled in his arms, honestly not feeling better than this in way too long of time. It only took a glance at him to see he was awake, more awake than he had a right to be, and with her senses returning, she would be able to form words although her throat was hoarse.

The problem was, for all the shit she talked earlier, she didn't know what to say.

"Thank you" came to mind, but that was not only tacky, because when you thank someone for fucking you, especially after hate sex, you pretty much sound like an idiot. Even though the thanks is for how the person made you feel, think twice before saying it. Show the gratitude instead.

That's what she opted to do. It was a look into his eyes as she glanced at him again. She kept her eyes clear of anything that might look like hope or expectation; she held neither. Just a warmth that replaced the hostility he'd encountered.

If there was going to be a conversation, he could initiate it, because after all, she'd initiated *this*. Her foot was tangled in the blankets that were now haphazardly hanging off the bed, and she reached to pull the sheet up over them, so they could just lie here together awhile. She would end up nodding off within the hour, that was fact, but between then and now, she was willing to listen to anything he might want to say.

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><p>(This is where their current story ends in chapter form. The characters have not decided if they are going to attempt a reconciliation, or just allow this powerful encounter to be a stand-alone moment. Reviews, as mentioned earlier, are welcome.)<p> 


	11. Chapter 11

**Published September 2011; added to our account the other day. There's a continuation to this story, but not added as a chapter. It's stand-alone, will not be updated frequently, but rather, as our characters at our game figure out where they're headed with Ted and Miranda. The title of the new story regarding Ted and Miranda DiBiase, which picks up right where this left off, is "Every Night Has A Morning After."**

**Reviews are welcome, as always.**


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